"What vivid Christmas memories they'll have, with jolly old Dad lifting the traditional metal tree limbs out of the heirloom cardboard box! The one that says 'Manufactured in Malaysia' in red letters next to the picture of a correctly assembled spruce.

"O, joyous Yuletide season!"

Not sure how I know they said "O" instead of "OH," but some things you just know.

Anyhow, they think I am a reprobate of the lowest form, only because six years ago I had finally seen enough.

Gee, it was a beautiful tree when we bought it.

Green, full, robust, brimming with holiday good looks and fully capable of holding the 150 or so pounds of tinsel, ornaments and authentic "Made in China" tree lights we drape on all trees.

Hey, this tree was a keeper.

Privately, I figured we'd hang onto it for a long time, and set it on the curb around April Fool's Day.

We paid $30 for this beauty. Couldn't have grown it for less than that.

Couldn't have driven to the Nicolet National Forest and found a better one.

So we stuck it in the back of the '84 Omni and it poked between us on the ride home, kind of like a new puppy.

Despite fervent attempts to keep it watered, scores of frantic phone calls to the Plant Doctor, and plaintive pleas to that Great Tree Farmer In The Sky, it did nothing but turn brown. In a serious hurry.

Couldn't get it out of the house fast enough. We contemplated opening our presents on Dec. 22 or 23 so the kids would still have a tree to remember.

We stuck it out until the 24th, however, like much of the Christian world, and nursed it through the 25th. I remember using Krylon spray paint somewhere, but it could have been on something else.

On the 26th, it went out the door, looking more like sagebrush than spruce. A herd of geese could have sailed through it without hitting a needle, and damn few branches.

Meanwhile, piles upon rows upon aisles of brown, dried, sick little needles were embedded in the living room carpet, hoping to escape the vacuum cleaner and stick between the toes of some barefooted fool.

It was at this moment that I alienated many people and decided to never again get a real tree for Christmas.

Said some things I probably shouldn't have said. Incorrectly invoked the names of several Higher Powers. I admit this was not good Christmas-like behavior, but when $30 gets you not much more than mulch in the making, you tend to lose a bit of restraint.

So, we spent about $100 the next year on the previously mentioned Malaysian spruce, resplendent in its plastic never-say-die needles, elegant in its color-coded branches. It has served us well.

But a guy gets lonely, you know? After you don't get invited to the key parties and after your phone stops ringing with buddies who just want to chat, you can figure out what's missing.

Which is why we relented the other day, and shelled our $25 for another real tree.